


What Are Friends For?

by cassie_black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was bad enough when Ron started mooning over Pansy Parkinson – all day, every day. But now he wants Harry to date Draco Malfoy, just so he can get in Pansy's knickers. Harry's a good friend usually, but is he that good a friend?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are Friends For?

**Author's Note:**

> This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, or Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest.
> 
> This was created for Prompt Number: M5  
> Original Work Name: 10 Things I Hate About You
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: I love this film. And here is a fic about two boys I also love, that's very loosely based on said film ;)

"Hermione, you're a Law Witch, right?" Harry dumped his tray onto the table and sank into the empty seat opposite.  
  
Hermione looked up, a small smile on her face. "Rumour has it."  
  
"So how long would I get for murder?"  
  
"How long would you…What?"  
  
"I mean," Harry continued, expression serious, "If there were extenuating circumstances and I had no alternative."  
  
Hermione followed Harry's final dark glare over to a familiar redhead making his way through the Ministry canteen. "What did Ron do now?"  
  
"Nothing." Harry stabbed the straw viciously into his carton of pumpkin juice. "That's the bloody problem. He just sits there mooning over Pansy Parkinson  _all_  day. And if he's not staring at her, he's talking about her. Constantly. He's even started following her around the department – it's embarrassing." Harry paused for breath and noticed Hermione's smile. "What? It's not funny."  
  
"Oh, nothing," Hermione replied, and reached out to snag a chip off Harry's plate. "I was just thinking how much it sounds like you and Malfoy back in sixth year."  
  
"You're not helping." Harry glared but Hermione remained unrepentant. "I was hoping you could talk some sense into him."  
  
"You want me to talk to Ron about his love life?"  
  
Harry nodded, but hope faded a little at Hermione's expression. "Just explain to him it's a bad idea. He'll listen to you."  
  
"Harry," Hermione reached out for another chip, evading Harry's attempts to stop her. "Ron and I didn't talk about his love life  _while we were going out_. I really don't think I'm the person for this job. Besides," she added, "I'm hardly in a position to warn him off relationships with ex-Slytherins."  
  
"It's not about…" Harry huffed and shook his head. "I don't care what house she was in at school. It's not about  _her_. It's  _him_. He's driving me crazy."  
  
"He's Ron," Hermione replied, as though this should explain everything. Truth be told, it did, a little. But it didn't help Harry out.  
  
"You're no help." He ran one hand through hair that already stood on end, and then spotted the subject of their conversation approaching. "He's coming over. For the love of Merlin, don't mention it."  
  
Ron eyed the sudden silence at their table with suspicion. "You've gone very quiet," he said, settling into a vacant seat. "What were you talking about?"  
  
Harry racked his brains desperately for a believable lie but all his brain could come up with was  _you_. He bit his lip to stop the word from escaping. It was futile though, because Hermione grinned broadly at Ron, ignored Harry's warning glare, and said, "You, actually. You and Pansy Parkinson more specifically."  
  
Girl or not, Harry stretched out his foot with the intent of kicking her, but Hermione was far too quick. She reached out and pinched a few more of his chips and sat back in amusement as she ate them.  
  
"Hermione." Harry groaned like a wounded animal and dropped his head into his hands – but not before he saw the familiar moony expression slide over Ron's face.  
  
Hermione was unfazed. "So, Ron, have you actually managed to ask her out, or is this going to be another seven-year-long courtship like we were?"  
  
Ron turned his gaze from Harry's theatrics and faced Hermione, wounded expression firmly in place. "I've asked," he protested. "I've asked repeatedly." Ron slumped a little in his seat before continuing. "She keeps turning me down."  
  
"She said no?" There was just a hint of surprise in her tone that caught Harry's attention. Ron, however, was too wrapped up in his misery to notice.  
  
"She doesn't say no, exactly. But she's always busy doing something else – usually with Malfoy. If I didn't know he was bent, I'd think he was competition."  
  
"Hey!" Harry's head was out of his hands now, and he glared at his friend.  
  
"What?" Ron looked at Harry in confusion, words muted by the mouthful of pie he was currently chewing.  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the sight of Ron's well-digested lunch. "It's  _gay_ , Ron. Not bent," she said primly.  
  
Ron shrugged and swallowed hard. "It's just a word. Harry knows I don't care who he shags. Right, mate?"  
  
Harry did know that. Ron had never treated him any differently after he'd come out – apart from that awkward week he'd spent trying to fix Harry up with Charlie. Sometimes, though, he wished his friend would think a little before he spoke. Twelve years of friendship said that was very unlikely.  
  
"See." Ron turned a brief, triumphant expression on Hermione, and then loaded another forkful of meat and pastry. "So, I was thinking maybe you could talk to her for me."  
  
"Me?" Hermione turned her  _are you crazy_  expression on Ron. It was one Harry remembered fondly from their school days. "You want your  _ex-girlfriend_  to talk to your  _new girlfriend_  about you?"  
  
"Not my girlfriend." Ron's words were again muffled by food, but both Harry and Hermione had long become attuned to such impediments.  
  
"Yet." Hermione's expression was more than a little knowing, and not even Ron missed this.  
  
"What do you know?" Cutlery clattered onto the plate as Ron gave her his full attention.  
  
"Nothing, really." Hermione took an extended sip of her tea. Harry could see the amusement in her eyes as she made Ron wait.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"It's nothing, Ron, really. I just got the impression that she was a little bit interested. That's all."  
  
And with those words, Harry's hopes of not having his life even further intertwined with a group of ex-Slytherins faded even more. Hermione had started it, and even though Harry had come to consider Blaise a good friend, he really didn't want to expand their group further. Nights down the pub with Goyle and Nott and, Merlin forbid, Malfoy, were really not how Harry envisaged his social life going.  
  
His misery went unnoticed by the other two, though.  
  
"You've already spoken to her?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and settled her cup back in its saucer. "It was just something Blaise mentioned in passing."  
  
There was a loud scrape as Ron pushed his chair back and leant forward over the table. "What did he say?"  
  
"I really don't know, Ron. It was just the impression he gave."  
  
Ron sank back into his chair, expression sulky. "You can't just get my hopes up like that."  
  
Harry took one look at his friend's expression and knew there'd be no working with him that afternoon. "So much for helping," he muttered, with a glare at Hermione. "I'll never hear the end of this now."  
  
Hermione looked from Harry's glare to Ron's pout, and shook her head. "Honestly. Look, why don't you come round after work and you can ask Blaise yourself?"  
  
"Ask me what?"  
  
Hermione started in surprise at the new arrival, and Harry was left wondering at the alertness of his Auror senses, if he'd managed to miss the approach of so imposing a personage as Blaise.  
  
Blaise dropped into the chair at Hermione's side, pecked a quick kiss to her cheek, before grinning broadly at the rest of them. "So, what are we talking about?"  
  
"You'll regret asking that," Harry replied.  
  
Blaise shifted forward in his seat, expression turned curious. "Now I'm intrigued."  
  
"We were just discussing Ron's obsession with Pansy Parkinson," Hermione said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Just had some contracts to drop off upstairs. Draco didn't want to leave the shop, so I thought I'd take advantage and see if I couldn't catch you for lunch."  
  
"You've caught me," Hermione said, her cheeks flushed a rosy colour.  
  
Blaise slung an easy arm around the back of her chair and tugged her in. "That I did."  
  
If Harry had ever harboured concerns about Hermione's relationship with Blaise, it was moments like this, and the bright smile on her face that quieted them. It was a pairing he would never have imagined in his wildest dreams, but there was no arguing that it worked.  
  
"So," Blaise said after a moment. "Pansy Parkinson, eh? Well, isn't that interesting."  
  
 _Not really_ , Harry thought, and wondered if he could sneak away without anyone noticing.  
  
"Interesting how?" Ron had eyes only for Blaise now. "What do you know?" he demanded. "Is she…has she…" Ron stopped, looked around quickly, and coloured a little. "Does she like me?"  
  
Blaise laughed. Not quite as heartily as he usually did, but full-bodied nonetheless. "I couldn’t possibly divulge a lady's confidences," he said, with a sly wink at Hermione. "Why don't you just ask her? I thought you Gryffindors were all fearless and brave."  
  
Harry waited for Hermione to lecture him about clinging to outdated stereotypes like she usually did with him and Ron, but apparently boyfriends got a pass on such behaviour.  
  
"I have." Ron protested the slight to his bravery. "Haven't I, mate?"  
  
"Repeatedly," Harry agreed, having been forced to witness several of these occasions.  
  
"She's always busy with bloody Malfoy." Ron began viciously shredding the serviette in his hand. "That git's still ruining my life, even now."  
  
"That's a bit strong, Ron," Hermione chided. "Pansy and Draco are good friends. You said yourself there's nothing going on between them."  
  
"Yeah, well, we're good friends too. But we don't spend every spare minute in each other's pockets." Ron screwed up the remains of the serviette and tossed it on the table. "It's weird."  
  
"It's not weird." Blaise's grin had faded and his expression was a little more serious than they were used to seeing his face. "They just…they went through a lot together, during  _and_  after the war."  
  
"And we didn't?" Ron's volume rose a little with his incredulity.  
  
Hermione fixed him with a glare, and if the wince on his face was anything to go by, there'd been swift kick under the table as well. But Blaise just inclined his head in acknowledgement.  
  
"I'm not saying some of it wasn't deserved, or that they were the only ones, but they were still children. And with most of the Death Eaters killed or locked up in Azkaban, they bore the brunt of a lot of people's anger." Blaise paused then and took a sip of the tea Hermione offered him. "I think if it was just Pansy, that she'd brazen it out. She's got more balls than most blokes, that one."  
  
Harry couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face at Blaise's words. When she'd joined the Ministry, Pansy had experienced more than her fair share of harassment, and Harry had been grudgingly impressed with the way she'd handled both her detractors and herself.  
  
"Draco, though." Blaise's expression turned almost sad as he continued. "He just holes up in that manor of his like a wounded animal. If it wasn't for Pansy, I don't think he'd leave except to go to work. And maybe not even then."  
  
Ron fidgeted in his chair. "But I don't see why—"  
  
"She feels responsible," Blaise said. "I know you don't think much of him, and with reason too, but Draco's done a lot for Pansy over the years and she feels like she owes him. She  _does_  owe him."  
  
"So you're saying she won't go out with me because Malfoy doesn't want her to?"  
  
Blaise shook his head. "It's not that. I don't think Draco would care either way. He'd probably be glad to be left alone, and that's likely why she won't do it. Pansy knows if she wasn't there pushing him, Draco would just lock himself away in that house like it was some kind of giant mausoleum."  
  
"So I'm wasting my time then?"  
  
Ron sounded despondent, sad almost, but Harry found his sympathies diverted elsewhere. He'd had little to do with Malfoy since the Death Eater trials, but when they had crossed paths, Harry had seen none of the despair that Blaise was describing. Maybe he really was as oblivious as Hermione liked to say.  
  
"Not necessarily," Blaise replied, a hint of a smile returning to his face.  
  
"But if she won't leave Malfoy," Ron protested.  
  
"Pansy's greatest fear is leaving Draco on his own, right?"  
  
Ron nodded, but his expression said he had about as much idea of where Blaise was going with this as Harry did.  
  
"Then what you need to do is make sure he isn't." Blaise sat back in his chair, grin firmly fixed back on his face.  
  
"I'm not dating the pair of them," Ron spluttered. "Never mind I'm not into blokes, that's  _Malfoy_  you're talking about."  
  
"Honestly, Ron." Hermione shook her head impatiently. "No one's suggesting you enter a ménage a trois with Draco and Pansy. What Blaise meant is that you need to find someone for Draco so he's not alone, and then Pansy won't feel guilty about being with you."  
  
"Oh." Ron relaxed, visibly relieved, before a frown marred his face moments later. "But hang on, where the hell am I going to find someone daft enough to spend time with Malfoy? Willingly? Never mind that he wouldn't give the time of day to anyone I know."  
  
Blaise and Hermione shared a small smile between themselves before looking across the table. "Well, there's only one person I can think of who's ever held Draco's interest for any length of time, and who'd be brave enough to risk his sharp tongue."  
  
Harry looked from the amused expressions of Hermione and Blaise, to the outright hopeful one of Ron's, and made a mental note to find himself new friends. "I hate you all," he said, then pushed away his lunch, appetite lost.  
  
"Does that mean you'll do it?" Ron was practically bouncing in his chair.  
  
"It means I hate you." Harry pushed back his chair and got to his feet. "But if you come back now and actually write up the Roker report like you were meant to this morning, then I'll think about it."  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
_"Potter! Weasley!_  Where's that damn report? You promised it yesterday!"  
  
Harry looked up from his desk in time to see a red-faced Head Auror making his way over to their desk.  _Bloody Ron_ , he thought somewhat uncharitably. "Auror Weasley is just finishing it off, sir," he said as placating as possible. "It's taking him a little longer than we thought it would."  
  
Ron flashed a quick look of betrayal at his partner, but given that the delay really was Ron's fault, Harry felt not the slightest hint of guilt. "I'm almost done, sir," Ron added. "I just have to check it through and sign it off. It'll be on your desk in fifteen minutes."  
  
"It better be." Robards was fair as bosses went, but Ron and Harry both knew better than to cross him. "It's already a day late. Any longer, Weasley, and you'll be spending the weekend on stakeout with Dawlish."  
  
Ron watched their boss stalk away before turning to scowl at Harry. "Thanks for that, mate. You were a big help."  
  
Harry shrugged. "It's your fault it's not done – I've taken enough grief from him over the last few weeks because you've been too busy fantasising about Parkinson to do any actual work."  
  
Ron's cheeks flushed the bright hue they always did when Harry mentioned his  _crush_.  
  
"Besides," Harry continued, "People who want favours from their friends – huge favours, mind – need to start being nicer to them."  
  
Ron frowned for a moment as he processed Harry's words, and then nodded sharply. "Right, yeah. Sorry."  
  
"In trouble with the boss, Weasley?" Pansy Parkinson perched on the edge of their desk, giving a flash of leg that left Harry unmoved but caused Ron to gulp visibly.  
  
"You know how he gets." Ron shrugged and gestured vaguely in the direction of Robard's office. "Probably his time of the month." Ron looked like he wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of his mouth, but Pansy didn't seem to mind.  
  
"You never know," she said, smiling down at him. "You might want to stay on his good side for a while though. Wouldn't be half as interesting around this department without you here."  
  
Harry had been sceptical before about the possibility of Pansy's alleged attraction – after all, she had turned Ron down every single time he'd asked. But this definitely sounded like flirting, even to Harry's less than experienced ears. And judging from the heat currently radiating from his face, Ron agreed.  
  
"Fancy a drink after work?" he asked, clearly trying for casual. "I could use a pint after the day I've had."  
  
Pansy's smile faded a little. "I'm meeting up with Draco," she said. "Otherwise I'd love to."  
  
Apparently that was all the encouragement Ron needed. "Bring him with you."  
  
Pansy's eyes widened in surprise and Harry almost fell out of his chair. "Just the three of us? That'll be cosy."  
  
"No, Harry'll be there too. Won't you, mate?"  
  
Harry extended one leg under the desk to administer a swift kick and was satisfied to see the wince of pain on Ron's face. Yes, they'd discussed this idea, but Harry hadn't agreed to anything. Not yet. But then Pansy Parkinson, of all people, turned an expression on him that was so hopeful that Harry didn't have the heart to say otherwise. Wishing with every fibre of his being that he could be more of a bastard sometimes, Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'll be there."  
  
A warm smile spread across Pansy's face, and for the first time Harry understood just what Ron saw in her. "Well, that's a different matter altogether," she replied, easing up off the desk. "Draco and I would be happy to join you. I'll just owl him about the change of plans."  
  
As she left, Harry began mentally planning a list of all the ways he was going to make his best friend pay for embroiling him in this mess. "You owe me big time," he said, turning to glare at Ron.  
  
Ron, however, was far too busy watching Pansy's retreating form to pay him any heed.  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
"Well, this isn't at all awkward."  
  
Harry looked up from the beer mat he was currently tearing apart and smiled wryly at Malfoy. No,  _Draco_  —Pansy had insisted, after all. "We've survived worse." He'd only meant it as a light-hearted observation, but there was a flicker of something in Draco's expression that made Harry regret his choice of words. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"  
  
"Relax, Pot—Harry. Pansy may think that I need coddling, but I can assure you that I don't."  
  
"Still, we're supposed to be having a  _friendly_  drink. I didn't mean to bring up the past."  
  
Draco raised one eyebrow in response – an action that took Harry right back to Hogwarts. "Friendly, is it? Is that what we are now?"  
  
"Not yet," Harry said. "But between Blaise and Hermione, and those two over there," he nodded over to the bar where Ron and Pansy stood waiting for drinks, "I think we're going to be spending rather more time in each other's company. So I suppose it would be easier all round if we tried to be friends at least. Don't you think?"  
  
Draco remained silent for what felt like a long time and watched Harry thoughtfully. He lifted up his glass and took a sip, eyes still fixed on Harry over the rim. "You might be right, Harry," he said eventually. "Of course, if you tell anyone that I said that, I'll be forced to kill you."  
  
Harry sat back in his chair, stunned into silence at the sight of Draco Malfoy  _smiling_  at him. And he'd just made a joke. At least, Harry hoped that's what it was. Either way, it was impossible to keep the smile from his own face in reply.  
  
He was still smiling as Draco got up and excused himself to the loo, and it was still there when Ron and Pansy returned from the bar, drinks in hand.  
  
"Where's Draco?" Pansy's tone was just a little sharp as she set Harry's fresh pint in front of him. "You haven't upset him, have you?"  
  
Harry pulled his attention back to the table and gave his head a quick shake. "No. He's just nipped to the loo."  
  
Pansy relaxed and eased back into her chair. Ron was still watching Harry carefully. "You okay, mate?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." And he was. It was just that he had started to see a new side to Draco Malfoy and had been a little surprised by the realisation that it might not prove to be a bad thing after all. It was a little early to share that, though, so he picked his drink and hid his smile behind the glass.  
  
"So," Pansy leant forward over the table, "Ron tells me that you like Draco."  
  
It was all Harry could do not to choke on his beer in response. And it took even more willpower not to lean over the table and choke his friend, who was currently shooting him meaningful looks.  
  
Pansy seemed to take his silence as embarrassment rather than denial. "I must admit that I'm a bit surprised. Not that it's you and Draco – that kind of makes sense, thinking about it – but I didn't realise you were…"  
  
"Gay?" Harry supplied.  
  
"Exactly." Pansy smiled tentatively at him. "I always had you pegged as marrying Ron's sister and populating the world with even more Weasleys."  
  
"Hey!" Ron protested. His pout made Harry want to laugh, but apparently Pansy found it rather endearing – if the way she leaned in closer was any indication.  
  
"I think Neville would have something to say about me marrying Ginny,"  
  
"Longbottom?" Pansy asked in surprise. "I really am behind on the gossip, aren't I?"  
  
"You have heard about Hermione and Blaise, right?" Harry couldn't help teasing for the life of him.  
  
"Very funny." Pansy smiled again and Harry decided that she really should do that more often. "Now, about you and Draco." Pansy shot a quick look over her shoulder, checking for her friend's return, before continuing. "You're going to have your work cut out there. He's not the same boy you knew at Hogwarts, but he can be…prickly."  
  
"Like a hedgehog?" Harry asked, and smiled at the image his brain supplied.  
  
Apparently not understanding the reference, Pansy ignored the interruption. "He doesn't trust people very easily, so you'll have to…although, I think  _you_  might have a head start there."  
  
Harry looked at her in confusion and was relieved to see Ron do the same. Pansy really wasn't making any sense. "Head start? How's that?"  
  
Pansy sipped her wine, as if taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "You defended him. At his trial," she clarified, as if in a million years Harry wouldn't know what she was talking about. "You stood up in front of everyone and told them to give him a second chance. Do you know who else did that for him?"  
  
"No?"  
  
"Exactly." Pansy placed her glass on the table and eyed Harry with a severe expression. "If you hurt him, Potter, you'll be talking in a very high voice for the rest of your life."  
  
Harry winced and crossed his legs at the implication – threatened by two Slytherins in one day. Although, he suspected Pansy meant it rather more than Draco had.  
  
"It'll be fine," Ron said when the silence became a little ominous. "Harry likes a challenge, don't you, mate?"  
  
Actually Harry tended to prefer the easy life nowadays – he'd faced enough challenges in his time – but it probably wasn't the best moment to announce that, so he gave a brief nod and held his tongue.  
  
The conversation dropped then as Draco returned to the table. He glanced suspiciously at them all in turn as he resumed his seat, but said nothing, much to Harry's relief. It was one thing for Pansy to know of his supposed crush, but quite another for Draco to find out. Harry had begun to think they could actually be friends of a sort, but if Draco thought it was all a ruse to get into his pants, it was unlikely to go over well. Of course, if he ever discovered that the initial plan was so that Ron could get into  _Pansy's_ , that was likely to go over even worse.  
  
"How's life at the Ministry these days, Potter." Draco paused, smiled wryly, and then amended, "Sorry. Harry."  
  
Harry grinned in return. "I think it's going to take all of us a while to get used to that particular change."  
  
Draco inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I imagine being an Auror keeps you busy, and having Pansy in the department must be interesting to say the least."  
  
"Hey!" Pansy tore her attention away from Ron long enough to protest. " _They_  appreciate my talents."  
  
"Weasley certainly does," Draco replied, and shared a smile with Harry.  
  
Both Ron and Pansy were too busy trying to fight their blushes to pay heed to his use of surname, so Draco turned his attention back to the conversation and looked expectantly at Harry for a response.  
  
"It keeps me pretty busy." Harry trailed one finger through the condensation on the side of his glass as he pondered his reply. "We've had a few big cases on recently, and we're not as well staffed as we could be. People aren't as keen to sign up as they once were."  
  
"Can't imagine why." There was a hint of sarcasm in Draco's voice but Harry let it go. "You have that high mortality rate, and those fetching uniforms."  
  
Secretly Harry was a big fan of the uniforms – it made getting ready for work so much easier in the morning. And truth be told, it had never hurt when it came to attracting a little wanted attention. Not that he was going to confess that now. "It's not so bad," was all he said, before adding brightly, "and we do get discount in the Ministry canteen."  
  
Fortunately seeing it for the joke it was, Draco laughed in return. "Harry Potter has a sense of humour. Who knew?"  
  
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Harry said, and though his eyes still held amusement, his tone was a little more serious.  
  
Draco nodded his head in agreement. "That I can well believe. But in the interests of keeping the conversation light, tell me, do you still keep up with Quidditch?"  
  
"Not as much as I'd like to," Harry said ruefully. "I catch it on the WWN sometimes, but it's not the same as actually watching it, you know? But with the shifts I end up working, I rarely get a chance to see a match."  
  
Draco's face shifted with something resembling sympathy. "It's one of the things I miss most about school," he admitted softly. "Quidditch, and the freedom to just fly wherever you wanted. Whenever you wanted."  
  
That was a sentiment Harry could well understand.  
  
"We're off next Saturday," Ron piped up, clearly having overheard their conversation. "And the Canons are playing. We could go then. What d'you think, Pans?"  
  
"I think it's a great idea." Pansy seemed to have caught Ron's enthusiasm, though Harry didn't recall her being a particular fan back at school. "We'll go, won't we, Draco?"  
  
Harry could see the reluctance in Draco's eyes, the idea of spending more time with people other than Pansy was clearly not something he wanted to do. But the lure of Quidditch won out. "Okay." He gave a small smile. "Sounds like fun."  
  
Harry agreed readily as well. It was only a Quidditch match. It could hardly be construed as a date of any sort, and he really did want to go. Maybe he wouldn't throttle Ron after all. Not this time. But it was an hour or so later, when Pansy's and Draco's seats were cold in their absence, and Ron turned to Harry to say, "Right, so who do you know in the Quidditch League that can get us tickets?", that Harry began to rethink his position.  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
Despite his own thoughts and Ron's regular reassurances that this was definitely  _not a date_  between him and Draco, Harry still found himself lingering a little longer than usual over his wardrobe choices. He didn't wear anything fancy – just a new jumper that Hermione had bought for him and the smarter of his numerous pairs of jeans. But given that Ron was dressed practically head to toe in Chudley Canons strip, Harry was pretty sure that no one was going to be looking at  _him_.  
  
They'd arrived at the ground in plenty of time, despite Ron's fussing over just which scarf he should wear, and whether to take one for Pansy or not. Harry spotted the bright head of Malfoy hair almost instantly and nudged Ron in that direction. Harry didn't miss the way Draco was holding back a smile at the sight of Ron's outfit – they shared a look and Draco faked a shudder. At least, Harry assumed it was faked. Pansy, on the other hand, seemed delighted by the outfit, and quickly had a bright orange scarf of her own draped round her neck and dragged Ron off in the direction of the nearest merchandise stand.  
  
"I have to say, you're taking this much better than I thought you would. Pansy and your Weasley," Draco clarified when Harry looked a little blank.  
  
Harry shrugged. "If Ron's happy, so am I. What about you? I'd have thought you'd be the one to object if anyone."  
  
Draco looked over at his friend thoughtfully for a moment before turning to face Harry. "I'm just glad she has something else to focus on. Gives me some peace."  
  
"She worries about you."  
  
"Well, she shouldn't. I'm a grown man."  
  
Harry smiled at that. "I don't think age has anything to do with it. It's just what good friends do for each other."  
  
"Not at the expense of their own lives, though." Draco's gaze was piercing now and Harry squirmed a little under the intensity. "She's already lost enough, for one reason or another. She doesn't need to be missing out on happiness out of some misguided sense of duty to me. Even if that happiness is Weasel-shaped."  
  
Harry'd known deep down that Draco had changed since school – enough people had told him that – but this was the first time he'd ever really seen how much. It wasn't just that he cared so much for one of his friends, but that he was willing to talk about it, and to Harry of all people.  
  
Draco shifted under the weight of Harry's gaze. "What?" he said, tone a little prickly.  
  
"Nothing." Harry hadn't realised how long he'd been staring till then, and gave his head a little shake to clear his thoughts. "You're just not who I expected at all."  
  
Draco's lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "I grew up."  
  
Harry held his gaze for as long as he dared – something was shifting between them and he wasn't sure he was ready to put a name to it just yet. "It's a good job one of us did," Harry said eventually, breaking the moment. "Look at them two." He nodded in the direction of Ron and Pansy who were busying trying giant orange hats on each other's heads.  
  
Draco laughed. A warm, genuine sound, rather than the cold mocking noise that Harry had become familiar with, and his usually cold grey eyes were alight with amusement. He leant in and bumped shoulders with Harry. "Come on, it's nearly time to take our seats, and I want some of those Cockroach Clusters before we go in."  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
The game was okay, though the Canons were mediocre at best, but throughout it all Harry struggled to concentrate on anything but the man beside him. He knew he should be watching the play – he'd paid enough in money  _and_  favours owed for the damn tickets. But there was something about Draco, about the brief flashes of unrestrained joy on his face in the rare moments the Canons played well, about the wary, almost nervous look that overtook his face in between, and in the way that Harry found he was starting to wish that maybe this was a date after all. That they weren't in a stadium with thousands of prying eyes, and that he had Draco alone so he could get to know the man he had seen flashes of in these last few meetings.  
  
But subtlety was still not Harry's strong point, even after four years in the Aurors, and it wasn't long before Draco caught him in the act.  
  
"Are you okay?" The smallest of frowns creased Draco's brow as he watched Harry steadily.  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine." Harry could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and forced himself to look away from Draco's lips.  
  
Draco smiled a little at his fluster. "You know, if you wanted one, you just had to ask."  
  
Harry didn't reply. He couldn't. In fact, he was pretty sure that he'd swallowed his own tongue at some point in the last minute.  
  
"Here." Draco held out his bag of clusters.  
  
 _That_  was what he had been talking about, Harry realised – but couldn't be sure if he felt relief or disappointment. So he took the proffered sweet, grateful to have an excuse not to talk.  
  
"I see the Canons haven't got any better since I saw them last," Draco commented finally.  
  
"You follow them, then?" Harry made a note to tell Ron that he and Draco rooted for the same team. That would be fun.  
  
"I used to." Draco said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the cheers of the crowd. "Father took a box most seasons."  
  
Harry didn't miss the flicker of some unnamed emotion crossing Draco's face at the mention of his father, but he could work out for himself that that was a topic best left alone between them for now. Possibly forever.  
  
"We stopped coming a few years ago," Draco continued. "For obvious reasons. And I've just never got back into it. I didn't want to come alone, and despite appearances to the contrary today, Pansy isn't exactly a Quidditch fan."  
  
It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to ask about Draco's other friends. He knew about Crabbe, obviously, but what about Nott or Goyle? He had no idea what had happened to them after the war, if Draco still saw them, or if he really was alone apart from Pansy. But Draco had already started to look uncomfortable so Harry decided that was a question for another day.  
  
"Are you okay?" Harry reached out tentatively and placed a hand on Malfoy's arm,  
fingers just brushing the warm skin of his wrist.  
  
Draco looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes somewhat obscured by strands of fair hair that Harry itched to brush away. "I'm just not a fan of crowds, or people staring."  
  
He spoke so quietly that Harry had to lean in closer to hear. The sentiment expressed was one Harry could well sympathise with. He'd been the object of people's scrutiny since entering the wizarding world, but it never got any easier. So he looked up to see if a well-placed glare could dissuade whoever it was. But as he looked at the situation around them, a smile spread over his face.  
  
"I'm glad my discomfort amuses you, Potter."  
  
Harry gently squeezed the arm he still had hold of. "Harry," he chided, not willing to lose the familiarity. "And I hate being stared at as much as you do, but I don't think it's you or me that's attracting the attention this time."  
  
Draco frowned again but made no effort to move his arm from Harry's grasp. "Then what—"  
  
"Look behind you." Harry nodded slightly and watched as Draco turned round to face the sight of Ron and Pansy apparently trying to devour each other.  
  
Draco was smiling when he turned back round to face Harry. He gave a little shake of his head as if despairing of his friend and said, "Maybe next time we should leave those two at home."  
  
It wasn't until Harry got home that night and fell into bed, exhausted from the day, that he realised just how much he wanted there to be a next time. And a time after that, too. And not even the sound of Ron's snores rumbling through their adjoining wall was enough to take the smile off Harry's face.  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
"That was lovely, Hermione. You'll have to let me have the recipe."  
  
Harry couldn't help but feel a little like he'd stumbled into a parallel universe. One where Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson were friends and shared cooking tips. Blaise and Ron didn't seem to see anything too unusual in it, but Harry could see the twitch of a smile on Draco's face and was relieved to know he wasn't alone.  
  
"Surreal?" Draco leant in and murmured as Hermione began clearing the plates.  
  
Harry laughed and gave a nod. "You read my mind."  
  
Draco held his gaze for a moment, just long enough for Harry to forget where they were. "Not quite," he said. "But wouldn't it be interesting if I had?"  
  
Harry flushed. He couldn't help it. He was no expert by any means, but he was  _sure_  that Draco was flirting with him.  
  
"Harry, could you give me a hand with the dishes, please?"  
  
"Huh?" Harry pulled his attention reluctantly away from Draco to find Hermione looking over at him. "Oh, yeah. Of course." He began to collect the remaining pots on the table, but couldn't help the way his gaze drifted over to Draco constantly.  
  
Draco noticed and didn't seem to mind. Not if his smile was anything to go by. "Don't worry; I'll still be here when you get back."  
  
"I hope so," Harry said before his brain could tell him not to. He watched the colour rise in Draco's cheeks this time, and as he made his way into the kitchen, all Harry could think was  _this is going somewhere. I really want to see where this is going._  
  
As the kitchen door closed behind him, Harry was pretty sure he could hear Blaise and Pansy begin to tease their friend, but it was all good-natured and Draco was more than capable of holding his own, Harry was certain of that. So he turned his attention to Hermione instead. Who was currently stacking the dirty dishes into a  _dishwasher_.  
  
"Doesn't look like you'll need much help with the washing up, after all," Harry teased. Hermione could be even less subtle than him at times.  
  
"I thought it might be nice if we had a bit of a chat," she replied, completely unfazed.  
  
"I should have known." Harry wasn't remotely surprised. If he hadn't been so caught up in Draco this evening, he would have known this was coming. Hermione never could stand to be outside the loop in anything. "I'll put the kettle on, shall i?"  
  
Hermione brandished a bottle of wine in reply. "It's too early for coffee. Besides, you always talk more with a little of this inside you."  
  
"Come on, then," Harry said as he took the proffered drink and hopped up onto the worktop. "Let the interrogation begin."  
  
"There's no interrogation, Harry." Hermione filled her own glass with a healthy splash of wine. "I just want to see how my friends are doing. I care about you. What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing at all," Harry said. "But you clearly want to know something, so we might as well get straight to it. You know Blaise will be in here sniffing for dessert if you're more than five minutes."  
  
"You and Draco seem to be getting on well."  
  
"Are you asking or telling me that?"  
  
"I'm just saying what I see." Hermione sipped her wine slowly, dark eyes watching Harry carefully over the rim. "Blaise says he talks about you at work. A lot."  
  
Harry couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at those words if he'd wanted to, but… "Why do you look like that's a bad thing? This was your idea after all."  
  
Hermione placed her glass carefully down on the counter and turned to face Harry fully. "I know it was. But look, Harry, there's something you should know. There's a reason Blaise suggested you do this."  
  
A very real knot of fear twisted in Harry's belly at these words, but he squashed it firmly. This was Hermione. How bad could it be? "Okay," he said, and placed his own glass down as well – no sense in breaking her best crystal if it was bad news.  
  
"Draco likes you."  
  
Hermione spoke as if making some great pronouncement. Harry smiled and felt relief wash through him.  
  
"I know. I like him, too."  
  
Hermione shook her head, expression full of frustration. "No, I mean he  _really_  likes you, and has for quite some time."  
  
"Okay." This was news to Harry definitely, but it didn't exactly fall under the heading of  _bad news_. "Hermione, why do you look so worried? I'm all grown up now; I can take care of myself."  
  
"It's not you that I'm worried about," she said quietly, carefully avoiding his gaze.  
  
Harry was stunned. "You think…You're worried that  _I'll hurt him_?" It was a statement more than a question, but Hermione still nodded her head.  
  
"I don't mean that you'd do it deliberately. I know you wouldn't do that. But, Harry, you don't always think first, and Draco's…well, he's been hurt a lot already. Blaise and I, we're just worried about how he'd react if he found out why you're doing this."  
  
"Maybe you should have thought about that three weeks ago." For the life of him Harry couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice – nor did he want to. He knew Hermione didn't mean to hurt, but Merlin! What kind of monster did they think he was?  
  
"I know that now." Both Hermione's face and her tone betrayed the guilt she felt. "But it's too late to take it back. I just want you to promise me you'll let him down gently."  
  
"No." Harry slid down off the worktop and tried his best to keep anger off his face.  
  
Hermione was clearly surprised by his response. "Look, I know you don't want to let Ron down, but he's old enough to take care of himself. And I think Pansy's well and truly caught by now. It's not fair of you to keep leading Draco on like this."  
  
"I like him, Hermione."  
  
"And that's good." Hermione smiled tentatively. "You'd be a good friend for him to have. He'd be happy with that.  
  
 _She means well_ , Harry had to keep reminding himself every time she spoke. "You're not listening," he said, tone sharp. "I  _like him_ , like him. Like you and Blaise, or Ron and Pansy. I know this didn't start out for the right reasons, but there's something there now and I want to see where it'll go."  
  
"Oh, Harry. Really?" Hermione stepped closer, smile brightening. "I did wonder about the two of you, I must admit. It's part of the reason why I went along with it, but…" She reached out for Harry's hand. "Forget everything I just said. Ignore me and my meddling. I think the two of you will make a lovely couple,  _and_  you can save us from the prospect of double dates with those two."  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
  
"I had a really nice time tonight." Draco settled back on the sofa, wine in hand, and smiled warmly at Harry.  
  
Harry's heart lodged somewhere in his throat – it had been doing that a lot lately. But having Draco in his living room, all mellow and relaxed and softly lit by the firelight, Harry had a feeling it would be there permanently now. "Glad I talked you into it, then?"  
  
"I really am. Although, I think that last curry might have been a little too hot for my tastes."  
  
Harry grinned. New though he was to Indian cuisine, Draco had still insisted on matching Harry's meal for strength. Harry'd tried suggesting something milder to begin with, but it seemed the old competition between them lived on.  
  
"I've never been to a Muggle restaurant before," Draco admitted. "Not much of a surprise considering my family, I'm sure."  
  
"Think you'll try it again?" Harry had plans to take Draco to several of his favourite places if he'd let him.  
  
Draco sipped at his wine before nodding slowly. "It was different. No one knowing who I am, or what I've done. It was nice to enjoy a meal without stares and whispers, or wondering if someone's going to hex you the minute your back's turned."  
  
"Did that happen to you?" Harry shifted sideways on the sofa to get a better look at his companion.  
  
"A few times," Draco said after a moment. "After the war I was like Pansy, wanting to face people down, brazen it out…"  
  
"But?" Harry prodded gently.  
  
"But there's only so many times a person can take being spat at, or asked to leave, or being hexed in the back when all you're trying to do is buy your mother's birthday present." Draco paused for a moment and took a shuddering breath. "Pansy says it's different now, but it still feels like a risk, you know?"  
  
Harry nodded and hoped his expression showed just how much he cared. He wanted nothing more than to take Draco in his arms and keep him there.  
  
Draco looked away for a moment and took another deep breath. When he turned to face Harry the emotion was visible in his eyes, even in the dim firelight, and it took Harry's breath away. "There's something about you, though," Draco said softly. "That makes the risk seem worth it."  
  
Harry had been waiting up 'til this point, aware of Draco's trust issues and wanting to let him set the pace. But there was no mistaking the way he was looking at Harry now. He reached out and took Draco's wine from his hand and leant forward to place it on the coffee table. As he leant back towards Draco, Harry went slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted. "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong."  
  
"You're not." Draco's words were so quiet that Harry barely heard them. But then he slid one hand around the back of Harry's neck and tugged him in that final distance, pressing their lips together  
  
It wasn't the best kiss Harry had ever had – it was a little clumsy, with too much pressure and the odd scrape of teeth, but there was also of the hot, slick slide of Draco's tongue against his that set a fire burning in the pit of Harry's stomach, and his fists gripped tight to the front o Draco's robes as if he never intended for him to leave.  
  
They parted for a moment, barely a hair's breadth apart. "I was beginning to think you'd never get round to doing that."  
  
Harry was relieved to hear Draco sounded as shaky as he felt. "I'd better start making up for lost time then," he said with a grin, and brushed his lips against Draco's again. He was just nibbling gently on Draco's bottom lip when the living room door burst open.  
  
"Harry! You'll never guess what—" Ron's words dried up as his mouth fell open. He gaped – there was no other word for it.  
  
"Uh, Ron," Harry prompted when his friend made no sign of moving.  
  
"Huh?" Ron's expression remained confused at best.  
  
"We're kind of in the middle of something here, Weasley."  
  
The sound of Draco's voice seemed to snap Ron back to reality. "Right, okay. Yes. Sorry about that. I'll just…" He turned towards the door, giving one last look at them over his shoulder before leaving.  
  
"I think we broke him," Draco said, as he leant his forehead against Harry's.  
  
"I should probably go and check on him," Harry said ruefully. "Don't want him having an aneurism or anything." He pulled away from Draco reluctantly, who let him go with matching regret. "I won't be long," he said, and headed off in search of his probably traumatised flatmate.  
  
He could hear the sounds of Ron banging around in the kitchen as soon as he entered the hallway. Harry spent the short walk there willing his erection to subside – this would be an awkward enough conversation as it was, without that making an appearance.  
  
Ron turned to face him as soon as the door opened, a frown creasing his brow.  
  
"You okay?" Harry asked tentatively.  
  
"Fine," Ron replied, giving the least convincing impression of that word.  
  
"Really? Because you look a bit freaked out, to be honest."  
  
"No." Ron shook his head firmly. "Well, maybe a little. I just…I know you took Malfoy out as a favour to me, and I appreciate it, really. But me and Pansy are good now, I reckon. You don't have to keep it up if you don't want to. I never…" Ron stopped then and looked away.  
  
"Ron?" Harry was a little concerned. He was pretty certain this wasn't some big homophobic freak out, but he wanted to make sure.  
  
"I never meant for you to do stuff with him," Ron said, finally meeting his gaze. "You know that, right? I wasn't trying to pimp you out."  
  
Harry laughed in spite of the situation – the mental image Ron's words conjured was just too funny. "I know you're no pimp, mate. Relax. And yes, I started this thing with Draco to help you out, but it's different now. I like him."  
  
Ron's eyes widened. "Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"  
  
"Really," Harry replied. "And if you hadn't burst in when you did, I'd be showing him just how much by now."  
  
Ron clapped his hands over his hears. "Too much information," he said loudly. "I think I preferred it when you were only pretending to like him."  
  
They both laughed then, and Harry felt something relax inside him. Right up until he heard the loud slam of the front door. He looked from the kitchen door to Ron in alarm, and then burst out into the hallway. Draco's coat was gone, and Harry knew without looking further that so was its owner.  
  
"You don't think he heard, do you?" Ron's freckles stood out starkly against the whiteness of his face.  
  
"Fuck." Harry scrubbed both hands through his hair. "I hope not." But the empty house and the sick feeling churning his stomach suggested otherwise.  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your balls off right now?"  
  
Harry looked up tiredly from his desk to face a raging Pansy Parkinson. "I don't have one," he admitted weakly. Harry had spent the whole weekend alternating between berating himself and trying to see Draco. He'd had very little sleep and didn't have the energy to defend himself against Pansy. Besides, he didn't think that he deserved to.  
  
It seemed to take the wind out of Pansy's sails. She dropped into Ron's vacant chair and sighed. "He's miserable, Potter. Not that he'll admit it, mind you."  
  
The guilt in Harry's belly twisted painfully at her words and at the return to surnames. "I never meant to hurt him."  
  
"Well, you did. You and Weasley and your stupid plans."  
  
"Hey, that's not fair," Harry protested, stung by the accusation. "It wasn't my idea."  
  
"But you went along with it, didn't you?"  
  
Harry couldn’t deny that, so he nodded sadly.  
  
"You need to make this right. I'm not watching my best friend hide away in that bloody house for another four years."  
  
"I don't know how. I've tried to see him, but he's blocked the Floo and changed the wards at the manor, and all my owls come back unread."  
  
Pansy frowned. "Have you tried the shop?"  
  
In reply, Harry held up his arm. The welt from the Stinging Hex bright across his skin.  
  
"So you're just going to give up?" Pansy leant forward in the chair, eyes flashing with anger. "Where's your courage, Gryffindor?"  
  
Harry held her gaze and refused to be cowed. "I don't want to force myself on him if he doesn't want it. And he's made his feelings very clear."  
  
"His feelings?" Pansy laughed bitterly. "Potter, he's in  _love_  with you."  
  
Harry's heart lodged itself in his throat again. "He told you that?"  
  
Pansy waved a hand dismissively. "Not in so many words, but I've known him my entire life. He doesn't need to  _say_  it, it's written all over his face every time he mentions your damn name."  
  
Harry dropped his head into his hands and rubbed tiredly at his face. "I don't know what else to do. Maybe I should just—"  
  
"You keep trying," Pansy snapped, glare returning. "You're not going to walk away and leave me to clean up your mess. He thinks you don't care, he's  _expecting_  you to give up. You need to prove him wrong."  
  
"And if he just hexes me again?" Harry asked, rubbing his sore arm.  
  
"He probably will." Pansy shrugged uncaringly. "But you're an Auror. For Merlin's sake, you must know a shield charm or two. And if the odd hex gets through, well, it's really no more than you deserve, is it?"  
  
She had a point, Harry supposed. Not that he had any intention of telling her that. "And you're sure this will work?"  
  
"That depends on how much you want him back," Pansy said, eyeing him steadily. "Draco's hard work; we both know that. You broke his trust as well as his heart – it won't be easy. But if you can stick around long enough to show that you mean it, then yes, I think it will work."  
  
Pansy got to her feet and turned to go. She paused halfway across the office and turned back. "Don't fuck it up, Potter. And you can tell Weasley, when he comes out of hiding, that he and I will be having a conversation about this."  
  
Harry nodded in return, and decided on reflection that however bad things were for him, he wouldn't trade places with Ron right now for anything.  


 

  
*****

  
  
  
Over the next few weeks Harry took Pansy's advice. He kept up steady efforts to make contact with Draco, even though he was rebuffed at every turn. His owl had started giving him a pitying look similar to the one Blaise wore every time Harry entered their shop, and he was now on first name terms with most of the Malfoy house-elves, for all the good it did him. Until the one day it wasn't an elf that met him at the gate to the manor.  
  
Harry hadn't seen Narcissa Malfoy since her acquittal in the Death Eater trials after the war. Like her son, she had retreated behind the walls of their home, and from what little Draco had said, it seemed she had remained there ever since. She was certainly the last person Harry expected to see on the other side of the gates that morning.  
  
Even more surprising was the touch of her wand to the wrought iron, and the creak as they opened.  
  
"Good morning, Mr Potter. Do come in."  
  
"Uh, thank you." Harry entered and looked around warily, expecting a trap. Maybe Draco lying in wait with a particularly vicious hex. Surely she couldn't be welcoming him in after what he'd done to her son?  
  
"You are here to see Draco, I assume?"  
  
Harry nodded and squirmed inside at the intensity of her look. "If he'll see me."  
  
"Of course he will," Narcissa replied briskly, and gestured to the path ahead of them.  
  
The journey was made in silence and it was possibly the most uncomfortable few minutes of Harry's life – every moment spent waiting to be rebuked for his actions. By the time they arrived at the main doors, none had come, and Harry was perplexed by the whole situation.  
  
"I believe you'll find Draco in the library," Narcissa spoke as the doors swung open heavily. "It is the third door on your left."  
  
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Surely she wasn't about to let him wander unsupervised?  
  
As if reading his mind, she smiled slightly. "I think we can trust you not to make off with the family silver."  
  
Harry couldn't help the answering smile that curved his lips. "Absolutely. It's a lovely house," he added, with some vague idea of being courteous and trying desperately not to think of the last time he had been there.  
  
Narcissa looked around them in silence for a moment. "It is," she agreed. "But it's only bricks and mortar." She reached out and laid one hand lightly on Harry's arm. "A person needs so much more than that to be happy, don't you think?"  
  
Harry nodded, too stunned at her touch to form words.  
  
Narcissa regarded him thoughtfully for a short while, and then nodded as if satisfied with what she saw. "Then on your way," she said, "and let us see if you can't persuade my son of that also."  
  
Harry didn't hold out much hope for his chances of that, but he headed in the direction of the library nonetheless. The door was heavy and noisy as he pushed it open, and by the time he was in the room, Draco was already staring in his direction.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" he spat. "I thought I'd made my feelings clear?"  
  
"You did." Harry walked in and let the door close behind him with a bang.  
  
"They why are you here?"  
  
"I don't think I made  _my_ feelings clear though."  
  
Draco raised his wand with a shaking hand and levelled it on Harry. "Come to tell me you love me, have you?" he asked bitterly.  
  
"No." Harry shook his head and took a few steps closer. "I don't love you, Draco," he said softly.  
  
"I worked that one out for myself, thank you."  
  
"But I could. I want to." And Harry realised as he said it just how true that was. "If you'll let me."  
  
What little colour there had been in Draco's face vanished. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"  
  
Harry stepped closer still. "No joke," he said, hands raised placatingly.  
  
"Just stay where you are." Draco's hand shook, but his tone was less than convincing.  
  
"I care about you, Draco. I know…I know I've screwed everything up, but—"  
  
"You can say that again."  
  
Harry ignored the interruption. "But I don't want to lose you."  
  
"It's a bit late for that." The bitterness in Draco's voice was like barbs in Harry's heart.  
  
"Is it?" Harry asked, closing the distance between them as much as he dared. "I'm sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention."  
  
"I imagine you think I'm devoid of all feeling, right? Dead inside?"  
  
"I don't!" Even though maybe he once had. "I didn't think and I made a mistake. I wish I could take it back, but I can't."  
  
"Then why are you here?" Draco sounded more desperate than angry now, and Harry felt the first flutter of hope.  
  
"Because I want to ask you to give me a second chance. Because I think this thing between us could really  _be_  something, if you'll let it." Harry took those final steps until he was right in front of Draco. He reached out and gently pushed the outstretched wand down. "Because I don't want to lose you."  
  
Draco stared at him dumbly in response.  
  
Harry took hold of his free hand and held it tight. "Please?"  
  
"What if you hurt me again?" Draco asked, his voice small and scared.  
  
"I can't promise I won't," Harry said honestly. "But I'll never do it intentionally. People in relationships hurt each other sometimes. It's what happens."  
  
"And that's what you want with me?" Draco paused and licked his lips nervously. "A relationship?"  
  
Harry nodded and swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "If you'll have me."  
  
Draco looked down to where Harry's hand held his tightly. He stayed silent for what felt like an age, before finally lacing their fingers together.  
  
"Is that a yes?" Harry asked tentatively, scared to hear the answer.  
  
Draco looked up then. His smile was weak, but a smile nonetheless. "I hate you, Potter," he said, but the way he leant in said otherwise.  
  
"I hate you too, Malfoy," Harry replied, as both the words and the grin were kissed thoroughly from his face.  


 

  
The End

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